Lessons beyond the classroom

"Shall we get started now?"

We were sitting in a circle around the large table in the classroom, just like every other morning on a school day. My classmates hated it when I asked that question. They preferred to spend another hour listening to the teacher's life stories. Not because they saw any value in it, but because they didn’t want to get to work. And me? I had spent my entire life doing nothing but burying myself in schoolwork.

The teacher began every morning with a "life lesson," as we called it. Sometimes, he would talk until the break; other times, I managed to get us to start working. Of course, I didn’t realize at the time how special what he was doing truly was; I just wanted to get on with my math. At our special school, special people gave us a special time. But I didn’t know how special my school was, nor how unique the "life lessons" were. I saw everything in a dark light. I didn’t want to be "special" in this way. I thought I wanted to be normal. Until I learned what a normal life at a "normal" school was like. Nothing is ever good enough, is it?

I found the teachers strange. Strange for wanting to teach kids like me and make it their career. But maybe I was the strange one for thinking that. Because perhaps being different is cool. We do all kinds of things to lead an extraordinary, out-of-the-box life. To think outside the box. But doesn’t that also mean you have to dare to step outside the box? To dare to be different?

The teachers made it special every time, and looking back, I realize I did have good moments. Alongside some students, I am the first to pass the state exams at a school for disabled kids.

Yes, it wasn’t a fun time back then, but it was a good period, and tomorrow it will still be. Maybe it was all for a greater purpose. From a "normal" school, you probably wouldn’t have a funny memory of an announcement about a girl with Down syndrome taking off in her wheelchair. Fortunately, she was found almost immediately.

The teacher considered his life lessons more important than the other subjects. He believed we could handle the rest; he trusted us. And he was right. Why he thought his life lessons were so crucial, I didn’t understand—until I started to miss them. I then went to college, but I didn’t pack enough life lessons to take along. Worse, I hadn’t even considered preparing myself for the real world. While sometimes a life lesson came from an unexpected person or place, it was never enough.

I didn't want anyone to know I came from this special school for disabled kids. So, I shed that label. But soon, I began to feel something missing. Somewhere deep down, I longed for the life lessons. I thirsted for them. I searched high and low, but I never found another teacher who could teach me life lessons like this teacher did.

There was a time when I was a student, but it was a short period. Life doesn’t work like school: first learning and then taking a test. No, it’s the other way around. Tested first, and then you learn. First, you fall, then you get up.

This teacher once told me he comforted himself with the hope that I would make the right choices in my future. Well, dear teacher, things didn’t go that way at all. I hurt myself even more after leaving that school I used to hate. Pain and sorrow kept knocking me down. I never shared much about my life, and out of respect, you never asked, you said. But teacher, I wish you had.